


The Party

by GlowwormiK



Series: Thace&Prorok [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Galra Empire, Gen, Slice of Life, Thace is a spy, Trusting Prorok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 03:31:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16987308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlowwormiK/pseuds/GlowwormiK
Summary: Thace is invited to a small gathering with the other officers, but when he accidentally refences Altea, he might get in serious trouble.A glance into the everyday life on Prorok's ships. Prorok's officers from the Treason in more detail. Fluff and chit-chat without much action. Happy-end.A spin-ff toTreason.





	The Party

Thag catches Thace on his way to the food supply hangar, grabs him by the elbow and pulls him aside. Thace intended to supervise the arrival of new goods - a stressful, demanding task, so he is no mood to chitchat, but she shoves a pack of glossy colourful paper into his hand nevertheless.

 

“Cut it into as many small shapes as you can - circles, triangles, y’know? Bring it to the medics after your shift the day after tomorrow, and bring tasty food if you have any. Iss’ for that party, y’know? Commander started it. For those creatures. From a fairy tale. We will glue paper to the lamps to attract them, y’know? I mean scare away.”

 

Thag is definitely not the most eloquent one of Prorok’s crew, but the Commander values her heavy fists, her persistence and her unquestioning loyalty, so Thace does his best to get along well with the Commander’s second in charge for personnel questions.

 

“What creatures, Thag? I don’t understand anything,” he sighs. Thag watches him with her small, narrow-set eyes from under heavy eyebrows.

 

“Right,” she says. “You weren’t here last time, I forgot. The Commander comes from an icy world, y’know?”

 

“It isn’t yet time for another no-sun day.”

 

“No-sun day? Oh, the one with the pine branches - no, it isn’t that. Iss’ for those creatures that breathe cold, y’know? You need to decorate a lamp for them - I mean against them, of course. Command’r will explain it better to you. Doctor Ellik is going to be there,” Thag starts bending her huge fingers to count.  “Me, Hakor, Yilvik and the Commander. Don’t tell the soldiers, I just finished kicking the fifth assault team into shape, we can’t let them know that higher officers throw unregistered parties.”

 

Thace really has to go, so he just nods, puts the paper into his back pocket and forgets about it until the evening. He pulls it out in his quarters - Thace has never been good at art or decorating, but he does his best to cut different-sized and different-shaped pieces, puts them in separate plastic bags. Prorok huffs when he notices them and winks conspiratorially.

 

Next evening, Thace takes a bottle of fig wine that he bought for alumni meeting last year but never attended and heads towards the medical quarters. He is punctual, as usual - and also habitually the only one to arrive on time for a not work-related gathering. Ellik is still busy with his last patient - a wiry thug who claims to have fever from a bruised palm. The soldier is obviously just trying to get out of his patrol shift, but Ellik examines his entire arm anyway. At last, he is ready and starts getting food supplies out of the fridge - Thace doesn’t want to know what is in the jar next to pickles.

 

“G’d evenin’ gentlemen.”

 

Thag’s nasal voice makes Thace jump - she is standing right behind him, though he hasn’t heard her approaching. She manages to step her pidgeon-toed feet quieter than a jungle predator, despite being a huge pile of muscle. Thace has heard rumours that she once approached a group of card players from the back and broke their necks before they could even understand what was happening. Not that the Lieutenant finds it believable, but seeing her so close is still unnerving.

 

“Evening Thaggie,” Ellik greets her enthusiastically. “How is your elbow doing?”

 

“Much bett’r, and all thanks t'you,” Thag smiles and goes around the table to take a tray from him. Near her, short and skinny Ellik looks almost like a child. “You really shouldn’t’ve wasted your time with that idio’, doctor. Th’only thing he needs is a good beating.”

 

“There are no healthy galra, just under-examined ones,” Ellik grins, and Thag huffs, too, baring her perfect white fangs. It is obviously an insider joke, and Thace feels excluded as he puts the dishes on the table and distributes bottles with glue that Ellik hands him. Luckily, he doesn’t have much time to brood - soon, he hears Hakor’s pervasive voice from the corridor.

 

“And I mean - come on, Sir! How am I to blame? If he is dumb, then what was I supposed to say?”

 

“You need to have your tongues shortened by half, Hakor, maybe then you’d...”

 

They barge inside, Prorok first, Hakor following him, and the room immediately lightens up for Thace.

 

“Doctor, listen Doctor, can you cut off Hakor’s tongue, please?” Prorok yells merrily. “The whole fleet would hail you as a hero - tonight, she called an inspector from the main base a “double-ass moron” and now I need to explain it to his Majesty.”

 

“Alas, truth is punishable nowadays!” Hakor tries to look offended, but her sparkling eyes give her out.

 

Thace can’t help a snort, Hakor winks at him. Thag immediately straightens herself and salutes Prorok formally, but the Commander just waves his hand at her. Thace knows he has to keep up appearances, so he lifts himself shortly from the chair, murmuring a greeting. Prorok smiles at him, and Thace feels his heart start pumping. Unlike everyone else, Ellik goes on rummaging through the fridge as if nothing happened.

 

“My honored Commander,” he says in a condescending voice worthy of a palace administrator. “I told you at least a dozen times that Hakor cannot be helped. She is, as we doctors say - causa pedidit, a lost cause. If I cut off her tongue, she would insult people by gesturing. The best solution I can offer you is assisted dying, but then you’d have to use it on the biggest part of your crew.”

 

Prorok snorts, shakes his head and heads out again. Hakor laughs out loudly, falls on the chair and claps Thace on the back.

 

“See Thace,” she announces. “You’re all stuck with me.”

 

“We can still transfer you onto a planetary station,” Thace giggles - Hakor's utter disregard for bureaucratic authority always manages to bring him in a good mood. “I personally find that driving an automated truck for a couple of years would do you good.”

 

“Yeah Hakor,” Thag adds. “Th’re’s a position on the new moon. Ev’r’thing works on aut’pilot, no ‘nspectors to insult - I can arrange you a transfer.”

 

Hakor, whose whole life is concentrated in those crazy loops she makes in her jet during battle, gasps and rolls her eyes.

 

“Make me rot with boredom in that pit? You vile fiend! You wouldn’t do that to a poor little girl!”

 

The “vile fiend” Thag hovers over small wiry Hakor like a mountain, pokes the “poor little girl”  and gets poked back with no less strength. They giggle and Thace once again wonders how these so different women manage to get along so well.  

 

Prorok returns with a bunch of small round lamps, puts them in the middle of the table and sinks on the chair on the other side from Thace.

 

“How are you doing?” he asks quietly and doesn't look away until he saw Thace smile and nod. “Thag, stop eating the crackers, we haven’t even started yet!”

 

“But I am hungry right now, Sir!” Thag murmurs with her mouth full. Ellik brings the bowl with hot juice from the kitchen and also sits down.

 

“Well, we could start, if Yilvik was here. Has anyone seen him?”

 

“He said that he noticed irregularities in the material scans of our cruiser ships yesterday and that he would look into in today,” Thace answers, making Ellik and Hakor whistle in unity.

 

“Then we can start - he is lost for our world anyway.”

 

Everyone takes a lamp and starts shaking colourful pieces out their separate bags.

 

“We have a new member this time,” Prorok says solemnly. “Thace needs to hear the tale of The Thing. Hakor, turn off the main lights, please.”

 

Hakor does as she is told, and semi-darkness sinks on them, leaving only a yellow circle of light on the table. Thace inspects what is given to him: it is a lantern, brass frame around a stout glass body, and a short massive handle with a wooden knob. Prorok turns his lamp on the side and starts  covering it with a ground layer of glue, everyone else follows.

 

“The Thing, Thace, is as mysterious as winter itself, as beautiful and as deadly. It comes when it pleases during frosty nights, it flies through the streets and peeps into the windows; and when it does, the windows freeze with ice patterns. It is the cold incarnate: the soft steps of its front paws bring death, accompanied by ticking of the hooves on its hind legs. It is so beautiful that when it looks at a person, they lose the will to fight. When it touches them with its twisted horns, their heart freezes into a cube of ice, their eyes turn light-blue and they become ready to follow it anywhere and do its bidding.”

 

Prorok’s voice is dreamy, he sounds almost entranced. Everyone listens breathlessly, mockery and jokes forgotten. Fingers do their repetitive job while ears are held up to hear every little detail of the fairy tale.

 

“The Thing means perfection, Thace. It is the symmetry of the needles of a snowflake, the clearness of ice on the lake, the ideal cone of an icicle. Its back is ever shifting and shining, and with a wave of its tail, it sends aurora borealis to the sky. Its breath...”

 

“Apologies, I totally forgot about the time!”

 

The room lights up - Yilvik is shuffling his feet at the entrance, blinded by the semi-darkness. He has opened the door, and the incoming light broke the intimate circle that they formed, so now everyone in the room squints angrily at him.

 

“Yilvik, you quiznaking idiot!” Prorok snaps. “You ruined the tale!”

 

“I apologize, Commander, totally forgot, oh sorry, very sorry,” Yilvik murmurs as he tramples to his place. Embarrassment makes him even clumsier than usual, so he manages to step both on Ellik’s and Thag’s feet. “I just started another test at five, and then I looked at the time - it is already quarter past eight! Those graphs just wouldn’t...”

 

“Shut up!” Thag hisses. “Don’t you see - C’mmand’r is talking!”

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Yilvik whispers conciliatively, but the left corner of Prorok’s mouth is already twisted down.

 

“Well, that is actually it. You get the idea, Thace - The Thing is a mythical spirit of winter, wondrous yet deadly. Decorate your lamp.”

 

Thace is so angry at Yilvik for ruining Prorok’s talkative mood that he considers kicking him under the table, but the main engineer looks so miserable  already that he decides not to add to his misfortunes.

 

“Why are we making lamps of all things?” he asks cautiously. Prorok sighs.

 

“Fine, where was I? The Thing is powerful enough to create aurora borealis with its tail and can freeze entire villages with its icy breath, but it has one weakness.”

 

“Let me guess,” Thace smiles. “The warmth of a loving heart?”

 

“No,” Prorok smiles back. “Simply warmth. It desires heat with every part of its icy heart, but it hates it just as much, because any of it is deadly to it. The tale has it that The Thing hunts every fire and tries to sit down on it.”

 

“And then what happens?”

 

“It extinguishes flames with its body and has to leave disappointed once again.”

 

“Left alone with its wet, cold butt,” Hakor adds, and everyone laughs. Everyone except Yilvik is done covering their lamps in glue, so the galra start taking the coloured paper.

 

“The decoration of the lamp is entirely your free choice,” Prorok says, sweeping most of the reds and oranges towards himself. “Some people go with geometric patterns, some try to paint a scene, so let your creativity run riot.”

 

He didn’t have to say that - Thace already knows what he would be doing. All he needs are white, green and some yellow paper pieces.

 

“I made my boys’ portraits last year,” Hakor grins. “But this year they didn’t make mum particularly happy, so it is going to be something else.”

 

“As to why the lamp exactly,” Prorok goes on. “Tale has it that if you go outside of your town on an icy, moonless night, then the Thing will smell you and come after your hot heart. However, when you have such a lamp, the creature will be so entranced with light and colours that it will forget to attack you and stare at the lamp instead. Then, you can ask it for anything and it will fulfill your wish.”

 

“This is entirely plausible from a physiological point of view,” Ellik says, gluing the first tiny square to his lamp. “I mean, the trance part, not the wish fulfillment. The Thing is not very different from moths, as it seems - at least when it comes to the complexity of brain activity.”

 

Everyone laughs and Thace relaxes, smiling at his lamp. It would be best if he could lean on Prorok and have him pat him on the head, but the gathering feels warm and comfortable anyway. The conversation starts to perk up: Ellik tells a salty joke he apparently heard recently (Thace strongly suspects that it was his own invention). Thace’s wine gets opened and everyone praises it, then Thag shows a small pantomime on how she and her brothers gathered figs on their parents’ farm before she decided to join the military.

 

“I talked to the engineers on Naxzella yesterday,” Yilvik says without an obvious connection to the previous conversation. “They got funding for a new project - a long-range wave lamp. Should it come to fruition, we could “light the way” for our sensors. Amazing, right? But it seems they blew it.”

 

Prorok shifts ever so slightly in his chair, but Thace notices that his eyes go sharp.

 

“How so?”

 

“Their lead software architect chewed too much tar and said that His Majesty was… well, we have no snitches here…  a dumb wrinkled old sack of balls. Haggar’s druids took him, and also a couple of others from the team, so now everyone is shivering in fear of being accused of state treason.”

 

Prorok snorts and lowers his eyelids again to hide the cold interest in his eyes. Thace is unpleasantly shocked - he suspected that the Commander might use his underlings’ informal connections to be better informed, but now he is suddenly being confronted with the manipulative backside of his sweet lover.

 

“I bet Ladnok isn’t happy about it...”

 

Thace knows Prorok enough to clearly feel a trap in this unfinished phrase, but Yilvik gladly falls for it.

 

“Oh, she was so enraged! Gniv said she was all blood and thunder.”

 

“Of course she was all blood and thunder,” Ellik smiles absently. “Otherwise she risked becoming blood and broken bones in Haggar’s labs. Poor, poor Commander Ladnok… Ah well, she should have paid attention to her underlings. Besides, it is really that hard to find another software architect?”

 

Cold goosebumps runs down Thace’s spine - kind Ellik, the one who gladly overstretches his shifts to properly check the health of each galra in their fleet…

 

“Nice spirals you have there, Yilvik,” Thace says, just to change the topic. Against his expectations, the engineer turns purple with rage.

 

“These. Are. Fractals!” He snarls, while everyone around them laughs. Thace looks around himself, unsure how to react.

 

“Commander, you owe me ten credits,” Hakor manages between surges of laughter. Prorok nods.

 

“What? What did I say?” Thace turns away from Yilvik who is trying to burn a hole in him with his stare.

 

“Nothing,” Prorok wipes his eyes and suppresses the last surge of laughter. “It’s just that each year, Yilvik makes these fractals and each year someone accidentally calls them spirals. I bet on you being smarter than that, but seems Hakor knows better.”

 

“How could you?” Yilvik asks, offended. “The spirals have constant distance to the previous circle while fractals drift together so much faster! Didn’t you have a geometry class at your university?”

 

“I dropped out,” Thace admits, somewhat embarrassed. “Besides, I was in arts faculty anyway...”

 

“What d’you have ther’?” Thag squints to see Thace’s ornament better.

 

“Juniberry flowers,” Thace is glad to change the topic. “The most beautiful flowers, they used to shine like tiny stars fallen from the sky. Whole fields of white and yellow stars, stretching all the way the horizon! Their smell is said to charm anyone who witnessed it.”

 

“Nev’r heard ab’t’em...”

 

“Oh, they are extinct, they were...”

 

Thace suddenly realizes what he has been coloring and raises his eyes. Thag is looking at him with questioning eyes, but she isn’t the problem. Prorok’s gaze hits Thace right in the guts like a knife. His eyes are cold, narrowed in shock and rage. He knows _exactly_ where juniberries used to grow.

 

“They… were… they...” Thace mewles, breathless, his thoughts tangled and wiggling like a bunch of of olkarian sea worms.

 

Prorok keeps staring at him as if he wants to look right into Thace’s soul, and Thace can’t move his eyes away, can’t breathe in, entranced like a rabbit in front of a snake. Finally, after an endless second, Prorok lowers his eyelids and takes another piece of coloured paper.

 

“Lieutenant Thace is sometimes too educated for his own good,” he says in a casual voice, with a little smirk.

 

“They… are from an extinct world,” Thace finally finishes his sentence, his voice shaking. “I ... I read about them.”

 

He looks down at his lamp, his hands are shaking so violently that he can’t hold the glue bottle steadily.

 

“What’s wrong?” Ellik asks, frowning. “What happened, Thace?”

 

“Nothing… I try not to think that the world is extinct, only about the flowers,” Thace manages, having to look up again. Ellik is obviously not believing him, and Prorok is looking at him again, eyes as piercing as before.

 

“Weird how some men in our Empire seem to have access to knowledge far beyond their level,” Prorok smirks - seemingly the usual smile, but Thace senses menace in it. “When did you read about them, Thace?”

 

“And I thought Thace wasn’t nosy. Where are these flowers from anyway, why are they so important?” Hakor is sometimes as socially insensitive as Yilvik, and now this blessed ignorance saves Thace from having to invent a reasonable explanation of his knowledge of altean flora on-the-fly.

 

“An extinguished world,” Prorok answers before Thace can open his mouth - he cannot risk leaking any information about Altea. “A quite old one. An interesting choice for a decoration, not something that pops up in your mind just so.”

 

“You spoke about aurora borealis, so I thought about them, they were called living stars...” Thace doesn't dare to raise his eyes anymore.

 

The rest for the evening is hazy in his memory: everyone keeps talking, but he is shivering internally. What would Prorok do? How much did he understand? Sometimes he tries to join the conversation, but fails miserably. He is relieved when the party's over and he may leave, but on the halfway to his quarters he notices that he forgot his keys. He has to return: the room is still lit and Thace hears voices.

 

“Did you really have to frighten Thace so much?” Ellik asks. “The poor boy was almost crying!”

 

“It is really nothing, Doctor, believe me, ” Prorok answers softly, but Thace hears a clear line in his voice.

 

“Oh come on Commander!” Ellik snaps. “So he read about Nei-Kari, big deal. Everyone who has half a brain here suspects that your world was destroyed on purpose. I don't understand why you are making such a big problem out of it! ”

 

“My world?”

 

“Oh stop pretending, Sir! I know you better than that. I saw the way you stared at him - these flowers are neikarian, aren’t they? No other extinct world would agitate you like that.”

 

“Of course…” Prorok says slowly. “ My world…”

 

There is a pause, Thace stops breathing - now is the time for Prorok to tell the truth about the origins of juniberries.

 

“He is a bright, educated boy,” Ellik continues. “Judging from your reaction, neikarian flowers aren’t the only thing he learned without asking you, but curiosity is in his nature, he needs answers. As much as I love Thag, you didn’t look for someone like her as your assistant, did you?”

 

“You are right, Doctor,” Prorok says finally. “I mean, you are wrong calling him a boy - he is very much a grown individual with his own values, but yes, this isn't a big deal. I should apologize to Thace. Have a good night.”

 

“Good night, Commander,” Ellik sounds relieved. “After you live for two hundred decaphoebs, I will look at you calling thirty-five-decaphoeb-olds grown-ups.”

 

Prorok laughs and exits, not noticing Thace in the darkness of the corridor. The Lieutenant feels his knees shake. Prorok didn't say “yes” about juniberries being neikarian, but he didn't say “no”, either. This is effectively a lie, Ellik will go on believing that he guessed correctly and will probably distribute this belief to the others, whoever noticed something. Prorok is willing to lie to cover for Thace once again. There is probably going to be a difficult talk in the bedroom tonight, but he won't report it to Zarkon, he won't even let this conversation leave the fleet. Thace rubs his eyes - wonderful, devoted, forgiving Prorok! He burns with desire to talk to his lover openly, to explain him everything, show him the ancient scrolls that the Blade possesses… Alas, he will have to go on lying, answer Prorok's trust with more actions behind his back.

 

It won't always be like that, Thace whispers to himself. Only until we win _._


End file.
